I shed my fears with tears and laughter
with tea swum in cream
and manchego
as my legs learn to walk with my knees touching
my upper body opens its consciousness to another's
to tango
I molt.
I hate Hans Christian Andersen but
I feel myself the Ugly Duckling about now
-if I may be so bold to say I am like that star-
there were so many times I simply saw myself
with other's eyes,
because it is vain to look in mirrors,
so I look at how others treat me and
do not realize that their actions reflect themselves
and the others in their lives
as well as my upside down self in their retinas
Honestly, I do not know if I cannot arrest
this way of understanding who I am in the world:
I am a circle and my edges happen
only when
I meet another.
I may
continue to stitch myself this way:
putting one piece next to another and seeing how it looks
But Now
I choose
those who give my circle secure definition
who make me happy in my skin in my big circle that is me
and relish the air I breathe because it is with them
because they are breathing it with me
and because above and beyond all
that we
are swimming in the air together
I stop and reflect,
and open wider to
those who let me
dream about myself as a swan
or as the bird that steals
the golden fruit in the Norwegian folktale
my mother read me
that comes in a whirr of wings
and colors
and no one can tame it.
My downy feathers fall
sometimes out in chunks
I look at them on the ground
and I cannot bend to pick them up
and press them to my eyes
because the wind feels so different on my face:
more familiar
like family
the wind affirms my cheeks
like a kiss
